


Love's Illusions

by Willa Shakespeare (AnonEhouse)



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: M/M, Mild S&M, Schmoop, Virtual Reality, not really non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 02:34:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/793054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonEhouse/pseuds/Willa%20Shakespeare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jenna talks Blake into letting the crew have a stress-relief holiday on a pleasure station. Rather than risk Avon getting into trouble on his own, Blake talks him into accompanying him even though they really don't get along. They wind up trying out dream machines intended to provide your deepest fantasies.</p><p>They're surprised by the nature of their fantasies, but not at all displeased. Jenna was right, this had been just what they needed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love's Illusions

(If you are reading this on any PAY site this is a STOLEN WORK, the author has NOT Given Permission for it to be here. If you're paying to read it, you're being cheated too because you can read it on Archiveofourown for FREE.)

_"I've looked at love from both sides now_  
From give and take  
And still, somehow  
It's love's illusions I recall  
I really don't know love - at all." 

_from the song 'Both Sides, Now' by Joni Mitchel_

"That's it, I give up!" Jenna shrieked, echoes ringing off the metal walls of _Liberator_ 's residence corridor. She glared at Blake. "What's the matter with me?"

"Nothing, absolutely nothing," Blake said, in his most soothing voice. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Vila, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. That might have been because of the argument, but more likely it was Jenna's attire. Or lack thereof. She had been wearing progressively tighter and more revealing outfits on the flight deck lately, but this- well, if it was spray-painted on, it was only a primer coat. She also wasn't wearing any foundation garments, as was evident by the anger-peaked nipples showing rosy through the rainbow-colored, transparent fluff that almost covered her bosom. He couldn't really blame Vila for staring. Oh, hell. Or Avon. Avon, who showed up, like a cat attracted to mischief and the scent of scandal. The only ones who weren't here were Gan and Cally, who were sharing the flight deck watch. He fervently wished he wasn't here. Fighting the Federation didn't prepare him for this. He poured on the charm, hoping to calm his invaluable, and high-spirited, pilot before blood was shed. His.

That deep masculine burr wasn't working this time. Jenna stamped her foot, incidentally jiggling, and making Vila gasp in awe. Jenna didn't notice, as she had eyes only for Blake. She said, with venom, "If there's nothing wrong with me, it must be you." 

"Jenna!" Surprisingly, that protest had come from Avon. Then again, maybe it oughtn't to come as such a surprise. Once Blake had gotten a little squiffed on one of Vila's potions and confessed to Avon how sick he felt thinking about the children who'd been abused to set him up. Avon had been sympathetic, in a quiet, don't-count-this-against-my-cold-bastard-image, sort of way.

Jenna flushed and put up a hand. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. It's just... well, dammit, Blake, I'm under a lot of stress here, too. Why can't we use the stress-reliever nature designed for the human race?"

"Here, here!" Vila said. When everyone looked at him, he defended his agreement, "Well, she's right. A little sex wouldn't hurt any of us. Too little sex is giving me brain-warp."

"That explains why you never were too bright," Avon retorted. Vila glared, and sputtered, but Jenna put him off his stride and he couldn't come up with a decent rejoinder.

"Ah, Jenna," Blake said quietly, "Don't you think we could discuss this in private?"

"Why? I already know your answer." Jenna shook her head. "I can't force you to want me. Any more than Vila could make me want him. But regardless of personal feelings, you have to take physical needs into account," she went on more calmly. "As the only experienced spacer on _Liberator_ , I am advising her captain that the crew desperately requires a relief stop."

"Relief stop?" Blake asked, puzzled. "No Federation rest and recreation centre would take us in."

"More likely, they wouldn't let us out," Avon added. "Are you sure this enforced chastity hasn't given you brain-warp?" he asked Jenna.

"A free-trader rest station," Jenna emphasized. "No one but free-trader pilots know the coordinates. It's absolutely safe and secure."

"Of course," Avon drawled. "The famed and highly recognizable crew of the most-wanted ship in the Federation can frolic without any notice being taken. How dedicated are the employees of this mercenary rest stop?"

"Free-trader," Jenna insisted. "They don't have to be dedicated. They're conditioned."

Blake frowned. "Conditioned?"

"Only not to give up the coordinates, or anything about the clients to outsiders. It's a highly-paid job, well worth a session with the conditioner. It doesn't have to hurt," Jenna told Blake, seeing him wince. "It's not torture, just reinforcing what they agreed to. It's a clean, efficient, expensive place to go when your captain doesn't allow internal ship romances. You're not unique in that, Blake," Jenna said, sharply. "Sometimes it makes sense. And I'm willing to leave you alone, if you'll be a bit more understanding of my position."

"I take it that's an ultimatum?" Blake growled.

Jenna tossed her head. "No, just plain common sense. If you refuse, I'll still fly the ship, but I'm warning you, we need this."

Blake considered, hand on chin. Vila was practically begging, Jenna had been desperate enough to take her pride in hand in front of Avon, and Avon ... well, Avon wasn't saying anything, but there was a decidedly interested look in his eyes. If his ice-cold veneer needed warming, the rest of them must be in bad shape."How far is this station?" he asked.

Jenna grinned and flung her arms around him and kissed him in sheer gratitude. That Blake could accept. Behind him he heard Vila whooping in glee and dancing a reluctant Avon around in a quick circle.

"I'll go tell Cally and Gan," Vila volunteered, running for the flight deck before Blake could disentangle himself.

Avon cocked his head at Blake. "That's the fastest I've ever seen him move. Congratulations, Blake, you finally found the way to a Delta's heart."

"It couldn't be that he wanted to make certain I didn't change my mind?" Blake chuckled.

"You had better not," Jenna said sharply.

"No," Blake said ruefully. "You've convinced me. I can't fight the Federation _and_ you."  
Jenna smiled and headed toward the flight deck. "I'll just go change the course now."

"Er, Jenna, don't you think you ought to change something else first?" Blake asked.

Jenna stopped, looked down at herself and laughed. "Well, maybe."

***

Blake lounged on the flight deck couch, eyes half shut while he nibbled thoughtfully on a knuckle. Behind him he could hear Vila's excited description of the entertainment he intended to seek on the rest station and Gan's polite attempts to change the subject. Blake smiled. He felt the couch shift beside him as another body settled on the cushions. 

"Why are you so cheerful?" Avon asked. He sounded disgruntled. Possibly, Blake thought, because his sharpest conversational jabs failed to draw blood from a euphoric Vila, not with them less than twenty-two hours away from 'heaven', as Vila put it. "I would have thought you'd be fretting at the delay in your quest for galactic salvation."

"I'm human too, Avon. And so are you."

"That remains to be proven," Avon replied. He crossed his arms and his legs, in a silent putting up of emotional shields. "At any rate, I do not intend to set foot on this pornographer's paradise."

"If you feel that way about it, why didn't you object?" Blake sat up, annoyed. Trust Avon to spoil the warm, Father Christmas glow of generosity that he'd been feeling. 

"Because even you, with your undeniable talent for mayhem, are unlikely to get us killed while fornicating."

"So you're going along with it simply to feel safe for a day or two? You sell your morals cheaply, I see."

Avon gave Blake a wicked grin. "Did I say I had morals? Perhaps it amuses me to watch your followers make total fools of themselves."

"While you stay on the ship, alone?" Avon wanted _Liberator_ , had always wanted her. Blake didn't believe Avon would sell them to the Federation for her, or even strand them, but leaving them on a friendly station? That might be just within his limits. Especially if he warned Blake about it ahead of time.

"Oh, well, someone must stay behind to man the bastions." Avon's grin this time was blinding, and blatantly insincere. 

"Orac can do that."

Avon shrugged. "Perhaps, but Orac is only a computer. What if unforeseen circumstances arose? Would you trust Orac?"

"As much as I trust you," Blake replied, coldly. He hated this posturing, and threat/response game that Avon insisted they play. He supposed he should be honored that he was the only one Avon treated as a worthy opponent. He would have preferred to have been regarded as a friend, but he had yet to figure Avon out. Would a friendly overture be considered a sign of weakness? Blake sighed and went silent.

Avon sat there a while longer, having succeeded in spoiling Blake's good mood. Strangely enough, it didn't seem to please him. Abruptly, he stood and went over to the games cabinet, bringing back the 3-D chess set. He placed it on the table between them and began setting up the pieces. 

"What's this?" Blake asked, "A peace offering?" Despite his annoyance, he couldn't help smiling when Avon tilted his head slightly to gaze at Blake through his fringe of bangs. Avon always reminded him of a mischievous child when he did that.

"Chess is a war game," Avon replied, his eyes crinkling at the corners into laughter lines. Blake would have paid a pretty penny to find out what had caused them. The present Avon used his smiles as weapons, and rarely laughed. Although he had a good, free, full laugh on the occasions he chose to use it.

"And are we at war?" Blake asked, even softer than before. 

Again the sideways, sly, look. "Not at the moment. Choose." 

Avon held his clenched hands out and for a moment Blake's heart raced, before he realized he was being offered a chance at white, and the first move. "This one," he said, tapping Avon's right hand. The hand uncurled, revealing the white King.

"Black suits me better, anyway," Avon remarked as he replaced the two kings on the board.

"Only because chessmen don't come in silver," Blake muttered, recalling a certain silver lamé tunic that had Cally and Jenna exchanging appreciative glances. Funny, Avon had worn the plainest of technician's outfits on the London, but since arriving on _Liberator_ , he'd been getting more and more flamboyant. Rather like Jenna. But who was he trying to seduce? He professed to distrust Cally, as an alien, and Jenna had made it quite plain that she distrusted him. Vila? Gan? Blake chuckled to himself. He must need a holiday rather badly himself to have such outrageous notions pop up. He settled down to play chess, glad that Avon was momentarily satisfied to cut his throat only metaphorically.

***

"That's it?" Vila asked, when they finally arrived, sounding disappointed.

Blake confessed to a few misgivings himself. The free-trader station looked, more than anything else, like a slightly larger version of Space Command's headquarters. Granted the toroid portion was fatter, and dotted with far more viewports, indicating an emphasis on living areas-still, what could be so exciting about the inside of yet another metal box? Besides the availability of warm, willing human beings. Yes, there was that. Only Blake didn't think it would be too good for his image to indulge himself. Sooner or later, it would leak out, and the rebellion needed to see him as something above the common man, without weaknesses such as lust, or desire, or even love. Oh, yes, he needed love, despite his crew's opinion to the contrary. He simply didn't dare let it happen, not with the fate of billions resting on his shoulders. He sighed. When he started sounding like a cheap romance novel, it was time he did something to ease the stress. Perhaps he could simply get totally blitzed. There were dangers in that, too. But that was an allowable vice, and if he wound up having a mean drunk at least that would let off steam. With _Liberator_ 's treasure room backing him, he could afford to pay for any amount of wreckage.

"Give it a chance, Vila," Gan rumbled. He was smiling, and put one hand on Vila's shoulder. "Jenna says they have the latest role-playing games."

"Games." Vila was not impressed. "What about sensory ecstasy hours? That's my kind of game. That and a warm and friendly cuddle."

"Ah, but there are role-playing games, and there are role-playing games," Gan said, nudging Vila in the ribs.

After Vila got his breath back, he said, "Well, maybe, but I'd rather have the real thing."

"They have that too."

Vila brightened. "And for once I'll have credits to burn. Twins, I think. Blondes. Or maybe redheads, with lots of freckles."

"Why freckles?" Gan asked, mildly.

Vila gave him a wide grin. "Ever play connect-the-dots'?"

Blake couldn't help chuckling. Vila was irrepressible. Presumably the Federation had found him so, too. "Jenna's made all the arrangements," he said. 

Jenna grinned back at Blake. "Found a few friends in port, too." She winked at Cally. "One of them knows a pilot from Auron who wangled a stayover. He calls himself 'pilot four-zero' which I think is taking security a bit far." 

Cally's smiled brightly. "He has a name. Where did your friends say he was staying?"

"They didn't, but we can find out when we go down." Jenna put in the final lock on the navigation console and nodded. "As soon as Blake gives the go-ahead."

Both women and Gan and Vila gazed at Blake expectantly. He paused for dramatic effect, then spread his arms wide. "All right. But," he yelled as they turned to run for the teleport chamber, "be careful!"

"Yeah, right, we will, of course, Blake," filtered back with varying degrees of sincerity, amid the pounding of four sets of boots.

Blake looked at his one remaining crewman. "Avon?"

Avon settled firmly into the flight deck couch, crossing his arms. "I am not going."

"Yes, you are." Blake was serious. 

Avon gave Blake a cold look. "You've disrupted my life enough. I am an Alpha. In case you have forgotten what that means, I do not stoop to tawdry, bought and sold, gratification. You are not going to interfere in my sex life."

"I'm not interfering in your bloody sex life, man. We all need this holiday, you included." Blake was getting annoyed all over again. Why did Avon always blame Blake for everything? Avon had got himself a life-sentence to Cygnus Alpha entirely without Blake's help. And why the hell should he resent fighting the Federation? From what little he'd said, he'd no more love for the system than Blake. He could be frightened, yes, that would be understandable. But no, Avon definitely was a spoiled, resentful brat who wanted the _Liberator_ for his own private yacht.

"Then why not leave me to my own devices?" Avon chose that moment to rub his hand over the couch in a possessive fashion.

"It isn't your device," Blake said, low and threatening.

Avon looked up, and the mildly irritated expression on his face hardened. "I see. So much for trust."

Blake shook his head. He hadn't meant to put it that plainly. Although Avon was a bastard, there were times he was as easily hurt as anyone else. "I do trust you," he said. He sat on the couch, but not too close. He stretched and put his arms out over the sides of the couch. 

"With reservations," Avon noted. "I take it that if I do not go down, you will not go down?"

Blake rolled his head, easing the tension in his neck. "I'd like to go," he admitted, "but wouldn't you be the first to call me a fool, under the circumstances?"

Avon showed his teeth. No one who knew anything about predators would have called it a smile. "I call you a fool under a great many circumstances." Abruptly, Avon stood. "But I can see I will never hear the end of this from the others if you give up your holiday because of me." He started toward the teleport.

"You'll go?" Blake wasn't certain Avon had actually agreed.

"I'll go," Avon said, "I won't enjoy myself, but I'll go."

Blake grinned at Avon's stiff, leather-clad back. Avon's pettish ...I won't have fun, and you can't make me,' was so in character. Oh, how he'd love to teach Avon a lesson, take a little of the starch out of that stuffed shirt. No, that wouldn't be very politic. But it was amusing to think about it.

***

Blake was still thinking about it, and about Avon's precisely worded sense of honor when they arrived at the courtesy centre where visitors checked in, verified their credit accounts, and decided on their entertainment. Avon had said he would come down. He hadn't said he'd stay. 

Avon was glancing at vid-brochures with heavy-lidded disinterest. He was attracting some attention, Blake noted with no surprise. Avon in full pout, with dark eyes smouldering, and spine ram-rod straight under the tight, silver-studded black leather, was a carnal invitation. A pretty girl who was also wearing black leather came over to Avon, and ran the tips of her long-taloned fingernails down his back. "Wouldn't you like to come to my dungeon?" she said in a rich, smoky voice.

"Sorry, no." Avon noticed Blake noticing the two of them and a wicked smile spread across his face. "Perhaps you'd like to ask my friend'," Avon suggested, pointing Blake out to her.

She gazed at Blake doubtfully. "I don't think so. Robin Hood's not my type."

"Nor mine," Avon said, smiling at her. He kissed her briefly, patted her on the rump, and said, "Now, run along and play."

She shrugged in a good-natured way, and continued prowling. 

Blake came over and stood beside Avon.

"What do you want now?" Avon said. He was running the vid-snaps so fast that Blake found it hard to believe he was absorbing the information. But then, you never knew with Avon. Maybe he had decided to unbend and join the party. No. Not likely. 

"I just thought I'd watch your back." Blake indicated a couple of huge, blond men who were staring at Avon with marked interest, now that the girl had been refused. 

"I can handle myself," Avon snapped. "Why don't you go amuse yourself."

"And where will you be?" Blake couldn't help asking. 

Avon's lips curled. "If you want to know the truth, I'll probably be back on the ship. Do you want me to promise I won't run off with it?"

"Would it do any good?" Blake knew the instant he said it, that it was the worst possible thing he could have done. 

Avon's eyes went dead black. "Obviously not." His lips moved soundlessly for a moment as he stared blankly past Blake. "All a man has is his word, Blake. When that is worthless..."

Blake grabbed Avon by the shoulders and shook him. "No, Avon. I didn't mean it that way."

"Oh?" Avon said quietly, without resisting. "Then how precisely did you mean it?"

"I just meant..." Blake gazed into the cynical eyes, and thought he saw pain behind them. He swallowed hard. "I can't help it, Avon. That ship is everything to me; to my cause. I want to trust you, but you don't make it easy. Do you have any idea how many times you've said you'll take it?"

"Never." Avon shook his head. "I merely said it would be mine one day."

Blake considered the difference. "And how will you get it if you don't take it?"

"There will come a time when you will need me , something that only I can do for your 'cause'," Avon snapped the word out with obvious distaste. "And you will want it so badly you would give me anything and everything for it."

"You think I would just hand over the ship, Jenna, Cally, Vila and Gan along with it?"

Avon nodded. "That's the difference between you and me, Blake. You use people, you don't really give a damn about any of us. You'd gladly see all of us flayed on the altar of freedom, just so long as you win."

That tore through Blake. Probably because of the core of truth. He had no life except for the cause. The Federation had seen to that. They'd destroyed him and they were destroying others. Every day millions of people suffered because he hadn't been clever enough, strong enough, ruthless enough back when he had his movement on Earth. If he hadn't been a woolly-headed idealist then, maybe it would all be over. His rage broke free and he began shouting at Avon, and shaking him so hard the other man could barely keep his footing. "NO! NO!"

Avon struggled, but Blake was stronger. He was unaware of anything except Avon's face, snarling back at him, until he felt himself pulled away. He looked at his captors, the enormous blondes he'd seen earlier and realized he could never defeat them. He fought anyway. People were gathering, staring and pointing. Avon was struggling with several people clinging to him, trying to get back at Blake. 

"What is the meaning of this?"

Everyone froze. The voice was female, elderly, and no-nonsense.

The owner of the voice came forward. She was a perfect match for it, tall and lean in a high-bred fashion, with masses of silver hair piled atop her head. "You are Blake," she stated, looking him up and down with disfavor. Blake felt a nearly overwhelming urge to straighten his tunic and say ...Yes, Ma'm'. He settled for "Yes, I am. And who are you?"

"I am the station-master." She looked at Avon. "You are Avon." Avon straightened under her glare, high patches of red in his cheeks giving away his feelings. Blake rather enjoyed seeing Avon under the old basilisk's eye. "And the two of you are trouble. Jenna Stannis has a good name at this station, so we permitted you to come. I can see that you badly require stress reduction, but this is not the way. Come to my office. Both of you." She made an imperious gesture, and the brawny men holding Avon and Blake released them.

"We haven't done any harm," Blake said, thinking she intended to cut short his ship's liberty. That would not make him popular with his crew. "We'll pay any reasonable damages, of course."

"Please. Follow me." The station-master paid no attention to Blake's protests as she continued on her way. 

The crowd was still watching them. Blake decided to obey her and conduct his argument in private. He walked behind the woman, with difficulty slowing his stride to hers. He felt like an idiot. And Avon walking at Blake's side was making it worse by smirking, positively reveling in Blake's discomfort. "Perhaps your charisma works better on pilots," Avon commented. 

Blake scowled. "You just love this, don't you?"

"Oh, yes, I must admit, seeing the champion of freedom quivering before an elderly woman has its entertainment value."

The woman turned back, and gave Avon a noncommittal stare as good as one of his own. "The elderly woman still has her hearing, young man."

Avon had the grace to say, "I am justly rebuked." He raised his hands and spread them in apology. "I seem to have forgotten my manners. The rough-hewn life of a rebel will do that to a person."

The door they were approaching opened, revealing a room set up for comfortable discussions, with a random- seeming arrangement of small sofas and over-stuffed chairs and tables set with fresh flowers and bowls of fruit. There were also a few flat couches with oddly bulbous head-rests. Blake was suspicious of those. 

"Please sit," she said. None of the furniture looked conducive to rapid disentanglement. Reluctantly, Blake perched on the edge of a sofa. Avon chose another just far enough away that he could watch the areas of the room that were blind to Blake. He had certainly noted the odd couches, too, and looked as skittish as Blake felt. 

The station-master sat in one of the over-stuffed chairs, nearly disappearing in its depths, and said, "I am not going to curtail your visit, gentlemen. But in return I require you do one thing for me." 

"And that is?" Avon asked.

"Use this station's facilities properly. You are important to a movement which we, as free-traders, support. I would not have you fail because we did not serve you well." Her eyes were sharp, and black as space. "We do not judge what you may choose to do for your amusement. Any desire you have may be accommodated, without question."

"Any desire?" Avon's eyebrows lifted. Blake sat silent, allowing Avon to handle the situation while he assessed it. 

"Any desire. There are certain 'unusual' tastes for which we utilize androids, but in general, we can find someone eager to share nearly any experience you may find pleasurable."

It was tempting. But someone would talk, eventually. Blake said, "I don't think that would be wise."

She nodded. "I understand. The problem is one of security?"

"Exactly," Blake said, relieved she hadn't gotten into the dirty details he'd expected.

"In your position, an indiscretion could prove costly."

Blake gazed at her solemnly. "I can't take the chance."

"Then the answer is simple." The station-master rose, took a data-cube from a table and held it out. "We can make a direct imprint of your deepest subconscious desires, the dreams you never remember, the fantasies you never allow yourself to experience, and implant them in a scenario which you may live as if it were reality. And all in the absolute security of your own mind. No one will ever know what it was." She gestured at the odd-looking couches. "These are the receptors..."

Both Blake and Avon got immediately to their feet.

"NO!" Blake didn't even know he'd shouted until he saw Avon flinch. He was shaking, and clenched his fists to disguise it. "No," he repeated more calmly. "Not that. The Federation did quite enough mucking around in my mind, thank you."

The station-master's business-like expression softened slightly. "Again, I understand. I wish you would reconsider. This device is totally harmless as is the inducer. This machine only records fantasies. The other only replays them. It is the safest method of having your heart's desire."

Blake felt himself wavering. It was damn tempting. He was a passionate man, driven to celibacy for his cause. And if no one would know... he could have his dream, just once. Something to remember, to warm the lonely, driven nights.

"Blake?" Avon asked, sounding concerned. His hand went to Blake's shoulder and squeezed. "Are you all right?"

Blake blinked, and smiled to reassure Avon. "I was just thinking ...If..."

Avon stared at Blake for a moment, then sighed. "Let me examine this machinery. If it is as advertised, do you really wish to do this?"

Blake nodded. "I told you I'm only human."

***

Avon took one of the receptors down to its component parts. "This seems an innocuous device," he finally admitted. 

"Then you wouldn't mind doing it?" Blake asked.

Avon gave Blake a suspicious look. "You don't trust my assessment? Or you don't trust me? I'm to play lab rat for you?"

Blake ran his hand through his hair, exasperated. "No, Avon. I just thought you might enjoy it, too."

Avon studied Blake's face for a long moment, apparently judging sincerity, then he nodded. "While it is an expensive take-off on Vila's beloved ...sensory ecstasy machine', the technology appears sound. It might make an interesting experiment."

"So you are a scientist at heart," Blake said.

"Oh, yes. I am that," Avon said. "A selfless, dedicated seeker of knowledge."

***

The process of recording fantasies was quick and painless, as the station-master had promised. You lay down with your head at the helmet-like end of the couch. It generated an Alpha wave to induce slumber, and then a series of modulated waves designed to evoke responses from the various parts of the brain, starting with the pleasure center, then stimulating all the somatic and emotional areas in combinations while it recorded the data. 

It was like a short, formless dream. Blake came out of it, blinked, and then stood guard over Avon while he was recorded. At last they stood, data cubes in hand.

The station-master said, "I assume you wish a private suite?"

"Yes, we would," Blake replied.

She pressed an unobtrusive button on the side of her chair. "I have summoned a guide. Afterward, you may wish to take advantage of our other facilities." She glanced down at an inset data reader set in the nearest table, and said, "Bother. The Kat'aah have arrived a day early." She pressed a different button and began issuing orders into the air, concerning the harvest and processing of catnip.

A well-groomed, slender, young man with an air of quiet efficiency appeared, and bowed to Blake and Avon. "At your service."

The station-master paused, and said, "Escort these gentlemen to a private suite in the experiental centre. Is there anything else you require?" she asked Blake.

"No, thank you. You've been too kind."

"Nonsense," the woman replied, "I am never kind. I simply dislike fuss. It is vulgar, and it is bad for business." She waved her hand at Avon and Blake. "Now, run along and play."

***

"Our finest private suite." The escort bowed again, pointing out lavatory facilities, automated laundry service, a dispenser supplied with aphrodisiacs, lubricants, massage oils, liquors, and exotic delicacies, a chest of sanitized 'toys' individually wrapped in sterile 'for your protection' plastic, a round, red-satin covered bed large enough for the entire crew of _Liberator_ , including Gan, and, almost incidentally, four lounges that resembled the receptors, except that the portion which covered the head was much larger. 

Avon said, firmly, "Two of your less fine, private suites would be better."

The man looked doubtful. "At the moment, they are all engaged. If you would care to wait, perhaps I can arrange something."

"Oh, come on, Avon," Blake said, "What's the matter? Are you shy?"

"Perhaps." Avon eyed Blake. "You do realize the mental experience will have physical consequences. Which means logically clothes would be an encumbrance. Think of it, you will be defenceless, alone and unarmed, naked, in the same room as I. Doesn't that send shivers through your trusting soul?"

"Oh, absolutely," Blake said, gently mocking. Actually it did make him nervous, but he could never admit that, not and continue to lead Avon. Avon only followed strength, Blake had sensed that from the beginning. He pulled off his over-tunic, tossing it on the big bed and began loosening the laces of his shirt. "But I'm game if you are." He removed his shirt, then scratched himself idly across the chest. 

"Sir?" The escort asked, holding out his hand, apparently having accepted Blake's decision for both of them. "Your cubes?"

Avon frowned. Blake handed over his cube and stood, relaxed, smiling gently at Avon. Avon's head snapped up, and his nostrils flared. "Fine." He threw his cube at the man, without breaking eye contact with Blake. The man fumbled, but caught the cube, nearly dropping the two of them as he did. Avon said, "I will probably wake first. I've always been a light sleeper. I wonder - do you think you will give away any secrets, bare that great, big, bleeding heart before me?" His voice lowered in threat. "And if you do, will I tell you? Or will you just see me sitting on the flight deck of your ship, looking at you, knowing you?"

"Leave it, Avon!" Blake looked at the guide, who was visibly unnerved by Avon's hostility. "Don't worry. His bark is worse than his bite."

"I shouldn't bet on that," Avon muttered and turned aside, pretending an interest in a reproduction of an ancient 'pillow-book'.

Blake heaved yet another sigh. "Look, can you rig the sequences to end at the same time?" he asked the guide.

"Well, yes, I can. But it is less disruptive to let the dream follow its natural course."

"Do it anyway. What do you say, Avon? An hour? Two?" At Avon's shrug, Blake told the guide, "Three hours, then." Avon's back stiffened, but he did not decline the challenge. 

The guide set up the machines, showed how to lock the suite against intrusion, and left without waiting for a tip.

Blake said, "I think you made him nervous." He continued disrobing, pausing when he got down to his undershorts and Avon was still fully dressed. "Never mind. Go back to the ship." He should have known Avon would never chance letting down his guard. Pity. If ever there was a man who needed loosening up, it was Kerr Avon.

"No." Avon did not elaborate, but he started taking off his clothes. Blake shrugged and tugged off his shorts, adding them to the heap on the bed. Avon was meticulous in this too, Blake noted with amusement. Each item was neatly folded and stacked with geometric precision on the side of the bed farthest from Blake's garments, gleaming black boots standing on the floor beneath like soldiers on parade, sneering at Blake's homely brown specimens which sagged at the ankles.

Just to annoy, Blake examined Avon clinically, eyes roving up and down. Avon appeared much slighter without the leather, and was most definitely shorter without the boots. Blake grinned, looking pointedly from the boots back to Avon's feet, then up to the top of his head.

Avon lifted his head, and retaliated by eying Blake's less than trim waistline, eyes going up to his well-padded chest, then back again.

Blake threw his head back, and roared with laughter. Avon joined him after a startled moment.

"Truce?" Blake asked, holding out his hand.

"For now," Avon replied, accepting it. They shook hands solemnly. Avon shook his head. "Let's do it."

"Before you get cold feet?"

"Cold something, anyway." Avon lay down on the bench the guide had indicated as his. He pushed his head under the inducer, and looked up at Blake. "I'll see you in three hours." He shut his eyes and let out a long sigh as the machine began humming gently, putting him under.

Blake gazed fondly down at Avon. The urge to touch him now, to pat him on the shoulder while he could get away with it, was nearly overwhelming. Everyone needs a human touch once in a while, even a Kerr Avon. He put his hand out- then drew it back, held back by the knowledge that Avon would hate it if he knew that Blake pitied him. He lay down on his own couch and settled into the cool, clean surface. He wondered what his own deepest fantasy was.

***

Blake woke up, and looked around the room, disappointed. What a cheat. He didn't remember a thing. He got up and went over to Avon's couch. Avon was murmuring, whimpering almost, twitching all over. In the grip of a nightmare, if anything. The damn machines must be defective. He pulled Avon out from under the hood when Avon's head began thrashing violently under the metal helmet. The shock of coming out of dream too abruptly was nothing to the damage he could cause himself with that amount of bashing about.

"Avon? Avon, are you all right?" 

Dark brown eyes opened, terrified. Strong, wiry arms threw themselves around his neck, and Avon clung to him. It must have been a horror of a dream to reduce him to this state.

"Shh. Avon, don't, it's all right." Awkwardly, Blake stroked Avon's head, smoothing the rumpled hair back in place again. He'd never noticed before, but Avon's hair waved slightly, the thick strands clinging to his fingers as if reluctant to release him. "You're all right. I'm here." A wave of fierce protectiveness welled up in Blake's chest. He pressed Avon tighter to himself. "No one will hurt you. Trust me." Abruptly, he remembered his first sight of Avon, on the London, diamond-bright amidst the dull coal of the other convicts. "I have always loved you, from the first moment I saw you," he said, wondering that he had never known it until this moment. He had known Avon was special, not a victim of the system like himself, abused and ground down to desperation. He had admired Avon's coolness, his confidence and self-assurance. He had valued him for his skills, and intelligence, and his ability to be ruthless when it was needed.

Where was that strong, ruthless man now? He hugged Avon. As if an intolerable control had snapped Avon began to weep, crying so rough and hard it must be making breathing difficult. "Don't. Don't, love. Please." Blake took Avon's head in both hands and kissed him, gently, over the long-lashed eyes, over the high cheekbones, slick with the salt-sweetness of tears, over the jaws prickly with new beard, over the lips ah, over the lips. Soft as an angel's wing, yielding like a ripe peach to his persistent nibbling, opening, Yes! There was a gasp, and a change in Avon's breathing. Deeper, slower, great drafts of air replacing the frantic, shallow gulps. And Avon's mouth was opening, hesitantly, in an endearing display of uncertainty. Letting him in, letting his tongue roam and explore, discovering the taste of Avon, different to anyone he'd ever kissed before. 

After an eternity, they broke apart, Avon still trembling, but now for a different reason. He was staring at Blake, eyes wide. "Do you... do you really..." He jerked his head aside in denial. "No, you only said that because..."

"I only said it because it's true." Blake took Avon's hand in his and pressed a kiss into the palm, folding the hand over it. Avon clenched his fist tight. 

"Then why didn't you say anything before?" Avon's eyes swept down, lifted to meet Blake's briefly, then flitted away again.

Avon was unsure of himself, anyone could see that, even a blind fool of a rebel. All that Alpha posturing, all that macho arrogance was a cover-up. He stroked down Avon's spine, invisible hairs downy against his palm. Under the armor, a tender creature, a damp, new-born chick, easily damaged. But not by him, never again. Others had flayed this man raw, left wounds still bleeding. How had he been so blind, not to see, not to know? He answered Avon, "Because I was a fool. A blind, self-centered fool. All I cared about was myself, my needs, my desires, my goals. I am so sorry. I should have been there for you."

"But you were." Avon touched his lips with paired fingers to stop the flow of guilt. "Always. I knew that but I wouldn't admit it to myself. You were trying to show me you cared, trying to offer me peace and understanding. I was afraid. It hurts to get close. To get close and then lose everything. I couldn't stand that. Not again. Never again. It was better having nothing." 

"No, Avon. You can't live that way, you can't close yourself off from me."

Avon turned away, hugging his arms about himself. "It would be better if I could. Do you know there are people who defy the statistics?" Avon's voice was thin and cold.

"What are you talking about?" Blake ached to comfort, but sensed it would do no good, not yet.

"You've heard of accident-prones? Those poor unfortunates who stumble from one disaster to another, never knowing why?"

"That's a fiction," Blake said, with an engineer's assurance. "People just think they're unlucky. Usually they were careless. Besides, you're not an accident-prone."

"No," Avon said softly, "I'm worse." Avon gave a sharp bark of painfilled laughter. 

"Don't, Avon."

"Did you know I had a family once? Father, mother, brother. Quite domestic."

"Yes, I knew."

"Ah, Orac. That computer has no sense of loyalty."

"I didn't ask for any secrets, Avon. Only what was in the public records. I wanted... I wanted to understand you." 

"And did it help?" Avon still would not look at Blake. He spoke as if reciting a memorized script. " Discovering that my mother suffered a horrible, lingering death of a disease that no one ever heard of? That my father neglected the family business to care for her, and lost it to the Federation for unpaid taxes? That he suicided the day they told him we had nothing, and the oh-so-generous Federation took me and my brother in? Took us in." Avon paused. "If you want real horror stories, let me tell you about a Federation orphanage. Better still, let me tell you about the institution they sent me to when I made the mistake of showing my intelligence. And then there was the happy family reunion years later, when I located my big brother. He didn't know me. He couldn't remember. The Federation, in its infinite mercy, decided to wipe his memories clean when he was adopted. So you can see why it is best not to risk involvement with me."

"Avon," Blake groaned. "That wasn't your fault, none of it was."

"The pain is the same."

Blake turned Avon around to face him. "So you have stopped trying. You've given up love to save yourself from the possibility of being hurt? I never thought you a coward."

Avon was stiff for a moment, then he leaned forward into Blake. "Maybe I am."

"No. You're afraid, but you're not a coward." Blake kissed the top of Avon's head. "Try once more. I've always been lucky. Maybe we'll cancel each other out."

"Do you really think so?" Avon sounded so tired and hopeless. Blake's chest ached, hearing it. No, not his chest, his heart.

"Let me love you, Avon. If it will make you feel safer, you don't have to love me back," Blake offered.

"Too late," Avon muttered against Blake. 

"Well, if it's too late, then why fight it? If fate already has me marked, why shouldn't we enjoy ourselves first? Give those bastards, whoever they are, one in the eye." 

Avon pushed back to gaze up into Blake's face. "Defy the unseen, universal, powers-that-be?" Avon began grinning. "Ah, the eternal rebel. The undefeatable warrior." His smile weakened. "But you aren't, you know. We have real enemies. With real fleets and armies to send against us. All seven of us. And it's only seven because you insist on counting Vila and Zen."

"I'd add Orac, but somehow, I don't think his heart is in it," Blake said, trying to match Avon's attempt to lighten the mood.

"His Tarriel cells. Orac hasn't got a heart."

"But you do, Avon."

Avon shook his head. "No." He forestalled Blake's protest by adding, "I lost it to a certain incurable optimist." He shook his head again, even harder. He looked up at Blake, hair appealingly tousled, and grinned. 

"Fair trade, then. I lost mine to a certain incurable pessimist." 

Abruptly, Avon reached up and pulled Blake down into a kiss. It was frantic, frenzied and entirely without the least vestige of grace. Blake responded in kind, then pulled back. "Wait," he gasped.

"Why?" Avon snarled, his eyes wild with need. He pressed himself against Blake, grinding his hard erection against the other man.

"Couch. Too small," Blake managed to get out. Avon was trying to pull Blake on top of himself, spreading his legs wide in blatant invitation. He hadn't expected that and wasn't prepared. Neither of them was. He wouldn't hurt Avon. No. "Stop!" 

Avon grabbed at Blake's crotch, rubbing and pulling until Blake was fully engorged and nearly insane with lust. He thrust once, pressing for an instant against Avon's arsehole. It was dry, and tight. Avon made a small noise, then spread his legs further, wrapping them around Blake's waist. "Do it, do it!" he urged.

"NO." Blake sat up, Avon still clinging to him, undulating against him and moaning. He put his hands under Avon's bottom and managed to stagger to his feet, Avon's legs locked around his hips, while Avon's arms frantically grabbed his shoulders. This did nothing for his balance, either mental or physical. He squeezed Avon's arse and pushed a fingertip inside. "Don't make me hurt you," he warned, trying to make Avon see reason.

"Please, Blake, I can't wait," Avon begged. 

"Just a - min- ute." This was driving him mad. He flung himself backwards, landing, more by luck than planning, in the middle of the huge red bed. The fall drove the breath out of both of them. Blake recovered first, wrenching an arm loose long enough to fumble at the bedside dispenser. His luck was still holding, for his third wild stab at the buttons produced a tube of lubricant. The cap stuck, and he pulled aside from Avon to curse and wrestle with it.

Avon grabbed the lube, put the cap in his mouth, bit down and turned the tube. He spat the cap out an instant later, saying, "Ah, raspberry. My favorite." He lapped at the tube, and ran his tongue around his mouth. "Generally I prefer them without cream. Generally." 

"You've a wicked mind," Blake commented, as Avon slid down to his waist and began experimenting with the lube, rubbing it on, and licking it off. Blake appreciated the attention to detail, but wondered how Avon had recaptured his fabled calm so quickly. He suspected it was a sham. Looking down at Avon's groin, he was sure of it.

"Thank you," Avon replied. He started to suck on Blake in earnest, lips, hands, and throat all working.

"No." Blake groaned and pulled out. He steadied himself against Avon's shoulders, then pulled Avon up and brushed his lips against Avon's. "What you want, Avon. What you like best. Tell me." 

"I want..." Avon blinked, wetted his lips, swallowed, and tried again. "I want you."

"But how, Avon?" Blake was determined to do this right. This was their first time. Maybe it would be the only time; he'd learned how quickly things could change, be lost. He wanted it to be special for Avon. Magic. Absolute bloody perfection, if there could be such a thing in any relationship. 

Avon shut his eyes, then opened them slowly, looking deep into Blake's eyes. "I want to be joined with you. I want you to take me. And I want to see your face while you do it. I need to know what it means to you."

"Ah, Avon." Blake's heart went out. Avon had said it so sadly, as if he expected rejection. "Lie down, love." He pressed gently on Avon's shoulders, kissing as Avon obeyed him. He smiled. This was probably the only time Avon ever would obey him without question. Avon lay as patiently as a man in his state could, while Blake arranged them both to his satisfaction. For both their satisfactions. He toyed with Avon pushing in creme-laden fingers, licking and sucking and chewing ever so carefully, while Avon's thighs tensed around his head, and Avon's hands tugged at his hair, and Avon's moans of pleasure filled his ears. 

Blake was so hard he ached, and Avon was in no better condition. At last, Blake decided Avon was as open and prepared as possible. He was still worried that he would hurt Avon, but matters were rapidly coming to a head. Besides, Avon kept walking his hips up Blake's knees, trying to force the joining. "Are you ready?" he asked, putting Avon's legs up over his shoulders.

Avon lifted his head, and stared at Blake in disbelief. "Are you mad?" He was dripping with sweat, and his hair hung across his eyes. At any other time, Blake would have thought it a comical effect, but it was now endearing. 

"I am. About you." Blake thrust. He had thought to wait a moment longer, but his body rebelled. 

Avon's eyes shut and his head dropped back, mouth open. "Ahh," he moaned softly, as the first inch of Blake entered his body. 

From then on, Avon said nothing that Blake would ever repeat to another living soul. All the cynicism, the biting wit, the cool sardonic facade, vanished, leaving only the essential Avon behind. 

"Love you, Avon," Blake muttered as he worked, pumping heavily into Avon's tightness. He wondered if Avon was a virgin to this type of sex. The look of sheer astonished ecstasy that came across him when the head of Blake's penis caressed Avon's prostate was a gift Blake would treasure forever. He was so glad that they could see each other while they did this. 

Each movement brought back memories. Blake hadn't known all the Federation had taken from him until now. No wonder he found Jenna eminently resistible. He admired her beauty without it having any visceral effect on him. But Avon- ah, the curl of his lip, the gleam of his eye, the lovely curve of his hip as he leaned over a computer console... Blake used to think the nervous restlessness he felt in Avon's presence was irritation. His poor, deluded body was trying desperately to tell him what he wanted, and he never knew. Never knew this sweet symphony of two hearts, two souls, two bodies was what he yearned for- and never, ever suspected it was Avon he needed. He pushed harder, pressing himself further and further in with each stroke. 

Avon twisted beneath him, so vulnerable, so softly delicate to Blake's eyes that he could not believe the strength of the internal grip that clutched and held at him, resisting when Blake withdrew, eagerly meeting him when he returned. He remembered all his lovers now, and they flitted across his mind's eye. He had always pleased his partners, and many sought him out, but he had never known this perfect rightness, this sense of total meshing. Some had been more beautiful than Avon if you looked objectively at their features, one by one. Many had been more skilled. Some had professed to love him more than life itself, and he had thought, at the time, that he returned that feeling.

But he had been wrong. It was Avon, only and forever Avon for him. Ah! His back arched as he felt the beginning of the end. Too soon, it was too soon. He bit his lip, trying to maintain control. 

Avon writhed under him, and cried out, a soft, sharp sound, then gasped, and froze, trembling, as he came. It was over in a few delirious instants, Blake's pleasure flowing into Avon, Avon's pleasure gushing over Blake. The hot wash against his belly felt wonderful. And the soft, mazed look of adoration in Avon's eyes was absolution for all the past and promises for all the future.

"Avon," Blake growled as he fell forward, exhausted. Avon's arms wrapped around him and squeezed once, then slackened as Avon fell asleep. Blake rested a few moments, then carefully pulled out. He pushed up on his hands and knees, hovering over Avon, staring hungrily at the sleeping man's features, memorizing this time against the dark days ahead. But they wouldn't be so dark ever again, not with Avon at his side, shining that dazzling smile just for him.

Blake lay down beside Avon, cuddling the other man in his arms. Avon slept so innocently, so at odds with his prickly, daytime self, that Blake's heart filled with a vast tenderness he'd never felt toward another living being. He kissed Avon's lips, ever so softly, sighed, smiled, and fell asleep himself.

***

Avon woke up. Vila was right, this place was a disappointment. He got up and wandered about the chamber for a few minutes, investigating. Finally he returned to the sleeping Blake and looked down on him, frowning. There he was, the big lump of too, too stolid flesh, sleeping. Happy as any sub-mental organism while Avon was left bored and frustrated. He had been, if not happy, at least resigned to his lot as resident loner aboard Blake's ship of fools, up until Blake had teased him with the promise of erotic satisfactions. Of dreams given life. Judging from the silly grin on Blake's face, he had been satisfied, but what of Avon?

As usual, the hell with Avon. What Avon needs, what Avon wants, these aren't even secondary to Blake, the great, all-mighty, all- conquering hero. Avon sneered and looked insultingly at Blake's body. Hero, hah. Pudgy bastard. But he had to admit, despite the avoirdupois, Blake was well-endowed. Hung like a horse is the usual phrase. Avon looked down at himself and the pale, pitiful thing that dangled there. _Poor worm, he thought, you'd like to find a burrow, wouldn't you?_

But no women. He had been tempted toward Cally, once he decided she was no more likely to betray him than any other of Blake's feckless crew. But when she smiled, he saw Anna. Necrophilia had never been one of his fantasies. 

That left men, who had a tendency to see Avon as this sweet innocent who would gladly follow their lead, and meekly accept their attentions. He'd studied himself in the mirror and been unable to fathom where they got the idea, but it was rather prevalent. His lips curled. After all he'd been through, catch him trusting anyone to that extent. Bondage and domination games could be quite exciting, but you had to be quite certain you weren't letting yourself in for a disaster.

His gaze had been fixed on Blake while he mused, idly watching the broad chest rise and fall. It was interesting how vulnerable even the biggest man looked while he slept. How vulnerable even this obnoxious, arrogant, insistent creature who positively refused to listen to even the most obvious bit of common-sense looked. An idea began to grow. Blake had promised Avon satisfaction, hadn't he? How could he complain if Avon took what he wanted? When Blake was always spouting reams of nonsense about sacrificing oneself for the needs of others, how could he justify not giving Avon what he needed?

Just once. Just once, Avon could have the upper hand. His lips curved in a wicked smile. The room was fully equipped. He could do anything and everything.There was a strong possibility that Blake would be furious with him, but what did that matter? Blake was always angry wih him, regardless of how many times Avon helped his insane cause. There wasn't a single thing he could do to make their relationship worse. Even if Blake threw him off the ship. He suddenly realized he didn't care that much about the ship any more. True, he needed it to survive, but there wasn't much point in bare survival. He wanted to be important in someone's life, to have it make a difference that they'd known him. Most of the people he'd loved were dead, so maybe it would be just as well to be remembered for making someone hate him. He could easily make certain Blake never forgot this encounter. 

And if Blake hated him enough, it might just be possible to leave the ship without feeling that damnable Alpha guilt his whole class had been thoroughly schooled in. From the time one was an infant, the world was always making demands, and if you failed, you were nothing. So he didn't fail, but even then, even when he succeeded there was this hollow feeling inside, that something was lacking. Never any equals, anyone to share his burdens, anyone to care whether he lived or died- including him. It was only sheer bloody-minded stubbornness that had kept him going this far. That and the desire for revenge that sometimes woke him in the night, out of the terrific nightmares the Federation had granted him. Yes, he wanted to be free of it all, but he had to be given his freedom. If he just walked away it would follow him as surely as his shadow.

So. He had decided. 

Quietly, Avon gathered the necessary equipment. He paused, standing over Blake, looking down at the closed eyes and gently smiling mouth. Was this really fair? No, it wasn't, he decided. But then, neither was Blake's treatment of him fair. He was Blake's equal by class, and superior by intellect, and what did that get him on 'Blake's' ship? Nothing. As ever, you only got what you had the strength and determination to take.

And he was going to take Blake.

He slipped the ankle restraints on first, tightening them slowly, ever so slowly, until the strong, sturdy ankles were lashed together. Then he stepped back, considering. He grinned. "Blake!" he shouted.

Ah, a rebel leader's magnificent reflexes. Blake started awake, and lunged forward, reaching at the same time for the gun he wasn't wearing. It would have been a pretty display, except for the belly-flop onto the floor when the tied ankles threw him off-balance.

"Avon!" Blake roared, face purpling with rage.

"Yes, that's my name," Avon replied calmly. He stepped one foot heavily into the small of Blake's back, deftly noosed Blake's left wrist and tugged it over to join the right before the startled man realized his intention. "Although," Avon purred, sitting down astride Blake, "I shall expect you to call me 'Master'."

"Master!" Oh, but this was better than he expected. The expression on Blake's face was priceless. He let Blake struggle like a beached whale for a while, enjoying the ride. His cock was waking up and enjoying it, too. At length, Blake lay, breathing heavily, head turned so that one angry eye could see him.

Avon got up and slapped Blake on the ass, not a particularly hard blow, not yet, just enough to make him jump and glare. "Let me explain the rules to you." Avon leaned down and pulled on Blake's hair, sharply. "Do I have your attention?" Blake was silent now. That was fine, let him keep up his strong, silent image as long as possible. Victory would be all the sweeter for the wait. "I am in charge. This is not the _Liberator_. There is no one around to help you. Unless, perhaps, if you scream? Someone might come then. Of course, then the story would get around. And no matter how you deny you asked for it, it would be very bad for your image. Consider. You were the one who insisted on sharing the room with me."

Blake's eyes changed, going from sullen to thoughtful.

"Yes, I see you are beginning to understand. Blake," Avon said, softly, while flicking a short, glossy black whip against his bare thigh, "I am tired of your intransigence. I am going to teach you a much-needed lesson. The stronger man is the one who wins," he hissed. 

"Then go ahead, Avon. I can't stop you." Blake jerked his bound hands once in emphasis. "Get it over with."

"What, no threats?"

"If this is what you need, then do it," Blake said, sounding so noble and patient that Avon felt his gorge rise. "I won't throw you off the ship, if that's what you're afraid of."

"Afraid?" Avon laughed. "You pitiful bastard. How you can think yourself a hard man is beyond me. Safe on your powerful ship, surrounded by your sycophants. Everything's always been easy for you, hasn't it? What a surprise it was to you that the Federation didn't bow down and apologize when your little tribe protested."

"There's no need for this, Avon," Blake said, still sounding more tired than anything else. "Just rape me, that's what you're here for, isn't it?"

"No, that's not it at all." Avon paced, slapping the whip harder and harder against his leg. He was angry now. "You are going to beg for it. You are going to scream my name and plead to be taken. You are going to grovel, and lick my feet for the privilege of being screwed by me."

"I really don't think so," Blake said. "Doesn't that hurt?" he asked with mild curiosity.

Avon looked down at his leg. It was covered with red welts, some of which were oozing blood. The cuts began to sting, now that Blake had drawn his attention to them. "It's nothing compared to what you have done to me." Avon dropped the whip, knelt in front of Blake and pulled him up by the shoulders. "It is nothing to what I will do to you." He was pleased to see the first tiny glint of fear in Blake's eyes. "Now, get up!" He yanked Blake to his knees. "I do intend eventually to take you," he commented, "once I feel you have earned it. But first, this." He rose up on his knees and pushed Blake's head down to his crotch. "You can bite, if you like. But I guarantee you will regret it."

Blake looked at Avon, with pity. "No, I don't want to hurt you." He licked the length of Avon's cock, slowly, then tentatively sucked the very tip. He pulled back, as Avon gasped and moved his hips slightly. "Don't worry, Avon," he murmured, "you're in charge. You give the orders. You're safe with me. I'll never tell a soul that you are so afraid of losing control that..."

Avon held the back of Blake's head and shoved his cock down Blake's throat, hard. "I- don't- ever- lose!" he snapped, rocking his hips faster and faster. The thrill of controlling Blake had made him hard in record time. No puny worm now, his penis was thick and throbbing as he crammed it down Blake's throat, relishing the involuntary shudders and spasms his brutal assault caused. He fancied he saw that touch of fear again, but this time it did not please him. It was too physical a fear. He had no desire to actually damage Blake. No, Blake was too useful for that. Besides, there were times when he was almost fond of him. He just wanted Blake to surrender, totally. He had to take the other man completely out of himself for that to happen. And pain did wonders at concentrating the mind. He slowed, eased the thrusts. Blake's eyes cleared as he saw that Avon's madness had faded. Avon felt almost kindly toward Blake at the moment. Really, for him, he was being most cooperative. Suddenly, Avon arched, clutching Blake as he climaxed, shooting hot down the frantically swallowing throat. It was over too soon, and Avon fell back, yanking himself out of Blake's mouth.

"Did that help?" Blake said, quietly, a dribble of semen hanging ludicrously off his thick lips. 

Avon wiped the smear off with his thumb, then traced his hand down Blake's chest, pinching at the nipples. "I've had better," he said, as nastily as possible. "You'll have to try harder if you want to impress me."

"Why would I want that?" Blake asked, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. 

"Because you have always wanted it." Avon moved even closer, eye to eye with Blake. His hands reached down to grasp Blake's genitals. "These want it," he said softly, feeling the instant response, the blood pulsing within that heavy organ, the twitch and crawl of the full globes beneath. 

Blake's breath caught, but he met Avon's eyes. "You are desirable, I would never deny that. Untie me, and we can make love any way you like."

"This is the way I like," Avon snapped. He squeezed until Blake's eyes rolled up white and his legs were trembling with the pain. Interestingly, his cock grew even harder, and his balls jumped. "I see. This is the way you like, too. Isn't it?" he demanded, fingers raised to show his finely manicured nails, before he lowered his hand again.

"NO!" Blake shouted, the anger back again.

Avon sat back on his heels. "That's more like it. I expect you to fight it, Blake. I demand that you do. I will not tolerate a mock surrender."

"What do you really want, Avon?" This time the exhaustion in Blake's voice was more honest. He was confused and uncertain. Just the way Avon wanted him. 

"You'll have to figure that out. It is your job to please me." Avon stroked his hand over Blake's genitals, rubbing a thumb along the ridge underneath the penis with careful calculation. "If you are very clever you may have the answers before I grow impatient."

"And if I'm not clever?" 

Avon's grin would have made a shark flinch. "Then you may discover just how far I'll go." He got up. "I don't fancy going any farther on the floor, though."

"Undignified?" 

"No. Bad for the knees." Avon walked over to the bed and sat down on it. "Come here," he ordered.

"How? For that matter, why?" 

"Getting above yourself again, I see." Avon yawned, stretched and picked up another of his toys. "Well, if you will be stubborn as an ox, I have two choices. Cattle prod, or nose-ring."

Blake was up on his knees now, kneeling up as straight as possible. "You wouldn't dare. Either."

"In that case, both." Avon slid off the bed, and stalked Blake, panther sleek and threatening. "Fight. I dare you."

Blake held still, calm as a martyr at the stake, while Avon fixed the nose-ring in place. It was a screw-in type that merely pinched, rather than pierced. It suited Avon to leave no marks. He admired the effect , then touched Blake lightly on the flank with the prod.

Blake jumped at the coolness. "Why no shock?" he asked.

"Because it wasn't where I wanted it." Avon teased the blunt end of the rod in the air, circling around Blake's ass, releasing a crackling static discharge without touching him. Blake jumped backwards, towards the rod. Taken by surprise, Avon swung his hand away, getting himself in the leg with the rod. He yelled, and dropped the rod.

Lying on his side, where his leap had taken him, Blake grinned. "How do you like it?"

Avon rubbed his leg, showing a bluish bruise where the charge had hit. "How do I like what?" he asked. "That's no good," he said, mildly, "you've broken it." He kicked the rod away. "Well, then." He pulled Blake onto his knees and grabbed the nose-ring. "Crawl." He tugged, and Blake followed. It was a slow progress and Avon grew bored before they had gotten half-way to the bed. "Stay," he ordered, letting go of the ring.

Panting, Blake stayed, although the fire in his eyes said how much it had gone against his grain to obey. Avon brought back another set of objects. "I've decided you could use a bit more decoration." Deftly, he slipped a silver-studded leather cock-ring on Blake, assuring himself the fit was snug without strangling. He ran a finger under and around, checking that no hairs were caught. He nodded. "Better." Next came nipple clamps, and a silver cock leash, the lead- line as fine as a baby's necklace. "Much better." 

Through gritted teeth, Blake snarled, an unintelligible noise.

Avon cocked his head to one side. "What was that? You want more, you say?" Avon's voice hardened. "Get on the bed."

Blake eyed the distance to the bed, and sighed. He shrugged, and shuffled forward, until his upper body was pressed against the bed. With his arms behind his back and his ankles tied together he couldn't rise and get on it. After several attempts he stopped trying. "I can't."

"Oh, the great Blake admits there is something he can not do. I want you on the bed, Blake. Figure it out." 

Blake tried on his knees, he tried on his belly, he tried rolling onto his shoulder. Finally, he admitted, "I can't do it by myself."

"Ah." Avon waited. This was coming close to what he wanted.

"Avon." Blake visibly shuddered. "Please help me."

"What? What was that you said?"

"I said... please help me. I can't do it by myself'." Blake's mutter was low, barely audible.

Avon reached out and lifted Blake by the shoulders, lying him on his side on the bed, facing Avon. "That's right." Avon sat down on the bed next to Blake and slapped him hard across the face.

"What was that for?" Blake protested. "I thought you wanted me to say that."

"I wanted you to mean it," Avon snapped. "Damn it, I want you to need me!" Abruptly, Avon turned aside and flung himself face down on the bed, feeling the sting of unwanted tears. It was frustration, he told himself, that and nervous stress. He wasn't crying because Blake didn't care about him. "You stupid son of a bitch. Now look what you've done."

"What? What I've done?" Blake rolled toward Avon, pinning him under his body. "This whole thing has been your game, your rules."

"No. Your rules," Avon replied. "Pain is the only thing you ever notice. I was going to give you enough to make you notice me. Only there isn't enough pain in the universe for you, is there? You just wallow it in, like a pig in muck."

"Avon, that's crazy. I don't like pain, I don't seek it out."

"Don't you? What's the point of this whole bloody rebellion, then? You aren't an imbecile, you know the only way it can end is with all of us dead. Even if the Federation falls, we won't be around to see it. And you don't care. You don't give a damn if I die. You don't even give a damn if you die."

Blake was silent for a long moment, then he said, "I'm sorry I can't be what you want, Avon. But I am not suicidal. There are ways to win, ways that won't get us killed."

"Then why don't you tell me about them?"

"Because you are an obstructive albatross about my neck, and you dearly love to pick holes in my plans. I've gotten tired of it."

"I pick holes in your plans because that's better than patching up holes in your hide!"

"Avon?"

"What." Avon was tired. None of this had worked as he planned. He hadn't unsettled Blake, he'd just embarrassed himself, and, oh God, he'd thrown his heart at Blake like a lovesick schoolgirl. If Blake had half an eye to see it. He really did not want to go on with this any longer.

"Avon, why are you so concerned about my hide? I thought you were going to enjoy torturing it?"

"So did I," Avon said listlessly. He got up and untied Blake's hands and feet, then he lay down on the bed, back to Blake. "I was wrong." His various cuts, bruises and burns were making themselves felt now. He didn't care. 

"Avon."

"You're repeating yourself." Avon really wished Blake would go away. Or hit him and go away. Curse him, shout, rape him, show something human. Anything other than that calm, understanding, unemotional bastard who never seemed to feel anything, never seemed to show anything other than cold, cruel practicality.

Blake was sitting up, rubbing his wrists and gazing down at Avon. Placid as ever, with only a slight frown line between his brows, as if he was working on a puzzle. He unscrewed the nose-ring, and removed his other adornments, putting them down on the bedside table. He looked at the other objects on the table, piercers, and pinchers, and nasty-looking devices. What Avon had used on him were innocent and homely toys beside them. He touched his lip, and gnawed a knuckle thoughtfully. "You hurt yourself," Blake observed. 

"So?"

"You were supposed to hurt me."

"I failed, all right. What else is new? Just leave me alone." Avon hugged himself, clutching his misery inward, like he always did. Ultimately, it didn't matter that he had ruined what little chance he had with Blake. Blake might have gladly given him sex three times a day, but it would never have meant anything to him. Better to have no one than a cold fish like that. A man can only have his heart ripped out so many times. Better to be hollow and empty. He pushed his head under a pillow and waited for Blake to go away. He would eventually. Everyone did.

"Avon." There was a long pause, then the bed shifted as Blake moved down. 

Avon tensed. Now it would come. Blake would rape him, be paid back for his humiliation and it would be over. Everything would be over. He felt the warmth of a large body moving close. "Master," Blake whispered. Avon froze. That didn't sound right. That wasn't anger, or mockery, or even lust. "Take me, Master," Blake whispered. Avon felt the tickle of curly hair along the backs of his legs, going down his shin, to his feet. A warm, wet tongue traced the length of Avon's sole. "I'm begging you."

Avon rolled over, astonished, pulling the pillow to his belly. "The game is over. You've won."

"No. We've won. I figured it out, Avon. I know what you want." Blake knelt by Avon's side, and began kissing along his whip-welted leg, licking away the blood. Avon moaned, and laid his head back. "You didn't want to hurt me. You want to love me. You want me to love you."

"Do I?" Avon squirmed. Blake's tongue was approaching an area that Avon hadn't whipped. And when Blake engulfed his balls and sucked, Avon whimpered.

Blake lifted his head. "Yes. And I do. I just didn't know how much until I saw what you were willing to put both of us through to prove it. Avon."

"What?" Avon asked, softly, gazing into Blake's deep, honest eyes, for once glowing with a fervor that had nothing to do with politics or wanton destruction. 

"I've licked your feet. I want to be screwed by you." Blake was hard now, erect as he hadn't been even when Avon was fondling and teasing him.

"Do you deserve it?" Avon asked, playing the game out.

"No. But you'll do it anyway. Because you love me."

Avon's grin slowly spread. "Well, now, I suppose I could make the sacrifice. This time."

Blake grinned back and knelt on the bed. "And next time?"

"We'll take that as it comes." Avon couldn't believe how quickly the sight of Blake's freely offered ass had aroused him. He moved on unsteady knees behind Blake. There was a tube of lubricant on the bedside stand and he used it lavishly on himself and Blake, not knowing how much experience Blake had. Although he was sure it wasn't for lack of opportunities. He licked his lips, thinking of that prize-winning dick. He chuckled, thinking how many times he'd silently called Blake a 'prize-winning dickhead'. 

"What?" Blake asked.

"Nothing." Some things it was better not to share with one's lover. Avon mounted, thrusting smoothly within. Yes, Blake was experienced. He should have known. That broad back was made to shoulder burdens. He should have gone to Blake before, told him how much he needed him, needed his support, his help, his guidance. His love.

Something of his feeling must have been transmitted for Blake planted his knees farther apart and said, "Yes, Avon. Don't be afraid. You're not too heavy for me." 

"Ahhh!" Avon clutched at Blake's ample waist, and heaved, pushing as hard as he could. Blake reared back to meet him, rough and powerful, exactly what Avon needed. No pretty songs or games, just two strong men joining, becoming stronger for that merger. Sweat poured off Avon's overworked body, stinging in his cuts, adding that little extra spice to the encounter. Blake rolled within Avon's handclasp, bringing his cock within reach. That felt good too, taking Blake in hand, guiding him, giving him pleasure with his own skilled hands. Proving himself to Blake. But he didn't have to prove anything. Blake saw his weaknessess as though they were strengths. Maybe he was right. Maybe Avon didn't have to be cold, and unemotional. Maybe he could be whole.

Avon felt himself turned inside out, and clung to Blake's heaving back, hands working feverishly even as his own orgasm wracked his limbs, pulsing through balls, and cock, and wildly gyrating hips. The sheer overpowering goodness of it was beyond all words, all expression. He screamed, "Blake!" as his seed erupted, and cried "Blake," as he collapsed onto Blake's trembling back. Feeling Blake's juices hot over his fingers, he whispered, "Blake," and slowly slipped out of Blake's protective refuge and onto the cool surface of the bed. 

He lay there curled onto his side, panting. His lips moved, in a last, silent, "Blake", as the big man turned and hovered over him, smiling down at him. Avon smiled back, sighed, and fell asleep, knowing that everything was all right. Everything would be wonderful. Blake was here, beside him.

***

"Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz." 

"What?" Blake grumbled, and tried to sit up. He bumped his head against the dream helmet, cursed, and extricated himself. He sat up, rubbing at sleep-caked eyelids, and gazed around, bewildered. The large round bed was pristine, unwrinkled, unused. A soft noise drew his attention to the nearest couch. Avon was apparently also just getting out from under his helmet. "What?" Blake repeated, feeling heavy-limbed and stupid. He was also sweaty and sticky. He glanced down at his mid-section and grimaced. "I guess it worked," he muttered, running his hands through his hair. Only a dream. He wished he hadn't done it. It had been heart-breakingly beautiful. And was equally, heart-breakingly impossible.

"Yes, " came the slow reply.

Tight-lipped as ever. That was Avon. Blake was annoyed, but remembering his dream he couldn't get really angry at Avon. That Avon had been incredibly sweet and loving. The whole encounter had been. Of course, that was Blake's doing. It was his dream, after all. Worst of all, he must actually lo- well, feel a little fond of the little shit, or he wouldn't have dreamed about him. He gave Avon a sideways examination, not wishing to start a fight, just yet. Ah, Avon had orgasmed, too. Good. At least he wouldn't be able to be superior about this whole thing. He looked up into Avon's face, expecting a smirk, or a cutting remark. Instead, he met a wide-eyed, stunned expression of such absolute confusion that Blake felt sorry for him. Avon's dream must have been as vivid as his was. It was probably hard on that cold fish, to be forced to feel. In all kindness, Blake should say something to break the spell. He forced a chuckle and asked, "Was it good for you, too, dear?"

Avon flushed, bright red, all the way down his chest, Blake noted with amusement. He was the type for it, fair-skinned. Delicate-looking, actually, without his clothes. Blake kept his face blank while he enjoyed the sight.

"Actually, it was," Avon replied. He glanced at Blake, then away.

Either Avon really was shy, or he had some peculiar un-Alphan moral codes, probably picked up in the orphanage. Abruptly, Blake's amusement was smothered in a wave of guilt. His dream-Avon couldn't tell him anything he didn't already know, but it had made it more real. He ought to be more understanding. He got up and stretched, yawning. "You enjoyed her, then?" he asked, mildly, not really expecting an answer.

"Him," Avon replied, every muscle visibly tensed as he admitted it. He glared at Blake, but his color was still high.

"Oh, you had a man, too," Blake said, cheerfully, determined not to let low-class moral code destroy what little unity he and Avon might gain from this. "Mine was all man. But tender and loving." He gusted a huge sigh. 

"Sweet." 

It could have been a snippy remark, but somehow, Blake heard wistfulness. He cocked an inquisitive eyebrow.

"My experience was opposite to yours, I'm afraid."

"Oh, a wild one, eh?"

"Unbelievably so." Avon ran his hands lightly over his thighs, looking down so that Blake followed his gaze, to smooth, unmarked skin. "I'm surprised I don't actually have bruises."

"Oh." Blake couldn't help it. He wondered, and the question was in his voice.

"I don't understand it. I have never considered self-inflicted pain erotic." Avon lifted his head again. "I did things I've never wanted to do, and I enjoyed it." He shook his head. "I must be even more perverted than you thought."

"I never thought you were perverted, Avon," Blake protested.

"Really? You never said to yourself, 'what a cold bastard, he probably fondles Tarriel cells in the off-watch'?"

"Oh, well, that." Blake grinned. "What do you expect when you take Orac to bed with you?"

Avon put on his best snooty expression and said, "I'm only interested in his mind."

Blake roared with laughter. Avon grinned, and they both relaxed. Avon stood up, and announced, "I'm for a shower before I return to the ship." He took a step toward the lavatory, then paused and turned back to face Blake. "Of course, if I go first, that means I'll be ready to depart first. I'll be alone on _Liberator_."

Ah, so he was still asking to be trusted. Blake decided he had to take the chance. If he didn't trust his right-hand man- oh, hell, he really shouldn't have thought of it that way. He put his hands down casually, to cover his burgeoning erection. "Better you than Vila." He was moved to make Avon promise not to leave with the ship, but obscurely felt that wasn't fair. If he trusted Avon, he trusted him without promises. "You won't get bored, and then drunk." He felt very stupid, and the more so for the peculiar look Avon gave him. It was almost as if he'd wanted Blake to argue the point.

Avon stepped forward, and Blake backed up instinctively. "Blake?"

"Yes?" Blake shivered. Avon this close, smelling of sex, and with his dark eyes all pupil, caught up in some unnamed, indecipherable, Avon-emotion, was deeply unsettling. Blake had large hands, but they wouldn't cover up much longer. And it was getting longer by the second.

"You enjoyed your man." It wasn't a question.

"Yes." Blake swallowed, hard. Avon was closer still, breath warm on Blake's chest, tousled hair an appeal for Blake's touch. His hand twitched, held back by supreme self-command.

"So being naked with another man in intimate surroundings doesn't disgust or disturb you?"

"No." Blake couldn't quite grasp Avon's meaning. Disturb wasn't the word for what being naked this close to Avon was doing to him. Completely fry what few brain-cells the Federation had left intact came closer. 

"So. It wouldn't greatly inconvenience you to share the facilities with me? That way we could both- come - back at the same time."

"Er, Avon. Are you trying to seduce me?" Blake hadn't figured on this, but apparently Avon's dream had whetted his appetite and removed his inhibitions. He must be randy as hell to consider Blake as a partner. He didn't even like Blake.

"Am I succeeding?" Avon rubbed himself lazily along Blake's hip.

Blake grabbed Avon's shoulders and held him still while he fastened his mouth on Avon's lips pressing to part, tongue reaching in to twine with Avon's. He tasted even better than Blake's dream, all fire and spice. One of Blake's hands reached up to the back of Avon's head, running his fingers through the damp, raw silk texture. Blake broke the kiss finally, and stared down into Avon's eyes. "We shouldn't do this."

"Why not? How is it different having sex with me than with your dream man?"

It almost sounded as if Avon was jealous. He cupped Avon's jaw between his hands. Avon didn't fight, but neither was it the sweet acquiescence of his dream. He looked at Blake, demanding an answer. Avon always demanded more than Blake felt he had to give, but sometimes that challenge pushed him beyond what he thought were his limits. Made him stronger. He supposed that this would either make him stronger still, or break him entirely. "He wasn't dangerous."

"And I am? What do you think I will do, tell the universe I slept with Roj Blake?" Avon was affronted and tried to turn aside.

"No." Blake held him with his eyes only. "You are dangerous because..." he stopped, tired of half-truths and outright lies. Avon deserved better, even if it destroyed them both. "Because you were my dream. And he wasn't real."

"Ahh." It was a long, drawn-out sigh. "But what if he was?"

"Avon?"

"You haven't asked who was the man in my dreams," Avon purred, pure desire in his voice, his eyes fathomless.

Blake stared into them, falling, falling hopelessly into a black hole. "This isn't happening. Not to us. Maybe we're still on that machine, having another dream."

Avon lifted an eyebrow. "Oh, well, in that case, it doesn't matter, does it?" He tugged at Blake's cock. "And it seems a pity to make this poor beast suffer even in a dream."

"What about this poor beast?" Blake stroked Avon, and was pleased to see the dark eyes shutter, and the soft lips open. "On top of everything else, the Federation could accuse me of cruelty to animals."

"Oh, and we must protect your reputation. Above all else," Avon replied. He pulled himself away. "Come."

In a daze, Blake followed Avon into the shower. Avon turned the water on, and stood under it, eyes shut, waiting. Blake came up behind him and took Avon's shoulders. He kissed in between the shoulder-blades, hands rubbing along the clean-muscled shoulders, cock pressing against the small of Avon's back. For the moment, he was ignoring that part of himself. "How was your dream Blake?" he whispered against Avon's neck.

Avon turned, and smiled. "He was uncooperative. At first. Until I chastised him. Would you like that?" 

Something leapt in Blake's gut. It was equal parts anticipation and sheer terror. "As long as it's you, I'd probably love it," he admitted.

Avon's eyes softened. "Another day."

Blake's heart leapt again, this time for the implied promise. "What if I'm not up to your dream?"

"Oh, well, then, I suppose we'd have to work on it." Avon frowned. "Unless it is I who fall short of your tender and loving ideal? I'm not likely to give you roses."

"And if you did, they'd have thorns," Blake agreed. "It was only my fantasy, Avon. You don't have to live up to it. Just be yourself. And let me love you."

Avon's lips pursed. "I will admit to an erotic fascination. Leave love out of it. For now."

"For now." Blake didn't want to push. Just sex then. For now. He held out his arms.

Apparently satisfied that he'd won, Avon stepped into the circle of Blake's arms. They rocked together under the warm water, hands slipping down to squeeze cocks, and tug at balls, and even venture between legs.

"Wait," Avon gasped. "This is too quick."

Blake nodded. "Let's take our time." There was soft soap, shampoo, and water-proof lube in convenient bottles dangling from the main shower head. He took a pair of soft mesh scrubbers, filled them with the floral- scented soap, and rubbed Avon's chest and back, down to hips and arse, continuing on to other things that looked quite nice crowned in white foam. Avon moaned when the tickling mesh had gone around his balls for the third time, snatched the scrubbers and went on the attack. He seemed to take especial delight in Blake's hair, but Blake was just enough taller to make it awkward.

"Kneel," Avon commanded, waving the soapy scrubbers in mock-threat.

Blake obliged. The view was interesting, he noted. While Avon concentrated on his head, he didn't notice Blake edging forward, concentrating on Avon's other head. Blake tried a lick, and Avon jumped, then steadied. When Blake didn't continue, Avon looked down to see Blake grimacing in distaste. "What?" he asked.

"Soap." Blake rinsed his mouth out. "Roses taste awful." 

Avon grinned. "Let that be a lesson to you. Take me as I am."

"Oh, I'd love to take you as you are." Blake was still kneeling.

"Not like that you won't." Avon sat down on the tile next to Blake, and kissed him, gently this time, slowly, thoroughly, the whole time letting his hands wander through Blake's curls. When he broke the kiss, he said, "There, all rinsed."

"Efficient as ever." Blake put his hands underneath Avon, and probed with lube-slicked fingers.

Avon squirmed. "Have I said yes?"

"Just being optimistic." Blake teased with his fingers, and seduced with his eyes.

"Um. Oh, all right. But how?" Avon looked around as if expecting a bed to slide out of the tiled wall. He looked at Blake, then lowered his head. "I haven't done- well, not exactly like this." He colored again.

Blake was touched. "Perhaps the other room would be better." He got up, tangled legs with Avon, who was also getting up, and gasped as their cocks rubbed once more. "Oh, Avon." He couldn't pull himself away. "Hell with it," he got out and began shoving himself hard against the other man, spreading his legs for balance.

"Blake, Blake, Blake," Avon moaned, pressing back and forth, faster and faster. The floor was still slippery, despite the roughened surface, and he skidded, nearly falling. 

Blake pushed Avon against the wall, pinning him there, while he grunted and lunged. He slipped and fell against Avon heavily, grabbed a faucet to either side of Avon's waist, and hung on. Suddenly Avon arched, wrapped his arms around Blake's waist, hooked his legs around Blake's knees, and came in three quick, jerking spasms. Blake tried desperately not to dump the two of them onto the tile, but his knees were trembling and gave out. He landed on his knees atop Avon, just barely missing whacking his head on a faucet.

"Ow," Avon said, after he'd lain on the tile for several seconds. Blake was still hard, and hadn't been able to resist rubbing against Avon's thighs. He stopped, by what exercise of will-power he couldn't say, and asked, "Are you hurt?"

Avon's eyes flickered. He looked down at Blake's groin, and said, "You're the one in pain." He grunted and spread his legs, trying to lift them about Blake's waist. "Are you going to help?" he asked, when Blake froze in shock.

"I didn't think..."

"You never do." Avon was still trembling in the aftermath of orgasm. His legs obviously wouldn't obey him. "Blake, damn you!" Avon's teeth were gritted. 

"All right, all right." Blake lifted Avon's legs, locking them over his shoulders. It would be deeper that way, but he couldn't figure how else to do it, not with Avon unable to stand. He couldn't think too clearly at the moment. He lined up, and pushed. Avon gasped, but Blake couldn't stop, not now, not for anything. His legs scrabbled at the tile, his hands pushed Avon's shoulders flat, and his brain was on holiday. He growled, and snapped at Avon's throat, not quite biting, and was given a surprising reward as Avon relaxed, sighing with pleasure. That made it easier. Blake's hips moved and he sank into Avon, into the hot, slick depths of the man he'd never thought to know.

It was better than his dream; Avon's ass was tighter, his skin smoother, his scent more arousing. The little broken noises he made as Blake thrust acted like a lash across Blake's back, driving him deeper and faster. He felt himself growing even more, larger and harder, and wondered at Avon's capacity to take him. Wondered without the will to stop, or even slow the pace. It was as if he'd wanted Avon all his life, and now he couldn't get enough. 

Avon whimpered beneath him. It had to be hurting, especially on this hard floor, but Avon wasn't trying to get away. Instead he was clawing at Blake, sobbing and thrusting his own hips at him. He wasn't hard, couldn't possibly be physically roused, not so soon, but he acted as if Blake's excitement was his own. Blake ground himself against Avon, balls smacking into Avon's soft arse, then peeling reluctantly free of the wet skin as Blake pulled himself back for yet another pump into his lover. His groin ached, his balls crawled up until he thought they would reenter his body, and his cock was red-hot steel, quenched in Avon, time and again, tempered like a fine sword, honed and sharp. 

He threw his head back, screamed, and let go, shooting hot and hard, every muscle and vein standing out in high relief. He shook and came for what seemed like forever. Finally, it was over. He collapsed atop Avon, too stunned to move.

Avon patted him on the shoulder after a few minutes, and Blake came back to reality. "Avon, my god, are you all right?"

Avon didn't answer, and Blake panicked. He pulled out, scrambled off Avon, and picked the other man up in his arms, stumbling out of the shower with him. He dumped Avon on the bed and snatched up his teleport bracelet. " _Liberator, Liberator_ ! This is Blake, it's an emergency!"

_Please state the nature of your emergency,_ came Orac's bored, disgruntled voice. _If it is an emergency. I have already answered three calls from Vila concerning imaginary menaces, brought on as a result of overindulgence in recreational substances. Do you require immediate teleport?_

A strange, strangled sound came from below him. Blake looked down at the bed. Avon was dripping wet, hair plastered every which way, lying limp as a rag. He looked like a drowned rat. A gorgeous drowned rat. He was laughing. Really laughing, proving that those laugh -lines had been naturally created. "You're all right?" Blake asked, feeling dumb again. Avon was very good at making him feel that way.

Avon's chuckles died away as he gave Blake an amused look."Of course I am."

"Then why didn't you answer me in the shower!" Avon could be incredibly exasperating.

"Because I couldn't breathe with you laying on top of me!"

"I ought to..." Blake picked up a whip, and waved it in Avon's direction.

Avon began laughing again, even harder. Blake looked at the whip, and at Avon, and began laughing himself.

Orac interrupted, _Shall I call one of the others to render assistance?_

"Hm, do you think Jenna..." Avon began with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

"Oh, no, Orac," Blake said, hurriedly, covering Avon's mouth with his hand,"there's no emergency. You're right. I was just drunk. Like Vila."

_I heard Avon's voice, as well._

"He's drunk, too," Blake said. 

Avon bit at Blake's hand, and said, out loud, "I am not drunk. I have just been scr..." 

Blake landed on top of Avon, driving the wind out of him, and said, "Look, Orac, we'll be up soon. Don't bother anyone. We're fine." He made a strangled sound of his own as Avon took advantage of his strategic position to squeeze and roll Blake's balls. "We'll be back soon," he choked out before shutting off the communicator. He shifted, flattening Avon completely beneath himself, and kissed Avon. 

Then he rolled off and sat up.

Avon frowned. "Come back here."

"Can't." Blake's grin was rueful. "We've been gone too long already. We have to get back to the ship."

Avon pouted his lower lip, and turned his back on Blake. If that was meant as a snub, it failed miserably, as Blake enjoyed the resulting view far too much to feel insulted. He patted Avon's ass. "Come on, rise and shine."

"Rise and SHINE? RISE AND BLOODY SHINE?" Avon slipped out from under Blake's hands and was on his feet on the other side of the bed, glaring. "That's it?"

"Well, you said you weren't the romantic type."

"Neither am I sticking my head in the sand and pretending nothing happened." Avon backed away from Blake. "Or did it?" Avon snatched up his clothes and started dressing. "Never mind. I can see this was all a mistake."

"Damn it, Avon!" Blake grabbed his arm, sending leather and studs flying. "I love you. Must I be forever telling you that?"

"Yes." 

"Ah, Avon." Blake held Avon close and simply stood there, silently, for the longest moment. Eventually, he felt Avon sigh and relax in his arms.

"Sorry," Avon said. "You're right. This was a pleasant interlude, but no matter how either of us feel about it, it just wouldn't work."

"Why not?" Blake asked, stroking Avon's hair. He enjoyed that almost as much as the sex. It had nothing to do with hormones, and couldn't be explained away as anything other than pure affection. 

"Why not?" Avon's voice rose. He backed away slightly to look into Blake's eyes. "Because, for one thing, we despise each other. This was only a momentary physical attraction."

"No. It's not, and you don't think it is." Blake stared at Avon, daring him to deny it.

Avon's eyes dropped. "Well, it will ruin your reputation."

Blake rubbed his chin. "Actually, I think it's an improvement over the Federation charges." His eyes crinkled in amusement. "No one is likely to think you an innocent child." Except me, he thought. 

Avon's mouth tightened. "It isn't a joke."

Blake nodded. "I know. I know there will be problems. But nothing will be solved by denying ourselves. If the rebellion can't understand love, then we'll have to teach them."

"Easy enough to say when you're talking about the great, conveniently distant, unwashed. But there are others to consider."

Blake gnawed a knuckle. "True, this will throw the crew for a loop."

Avon smiled. "Jenna will be describing parabolas."

"She'll get over it. They all will."

"And if they don't?"

Avon was begging for reassurance, and Blake didn't know what to say. Could he honestly promise to cast the others aside for Avon? Throw away the crew that was his best chance to save uncounted billions? Troubled, he gazed into Avon's eyes, and all he saw there was himself. A large shaggy sheepdog of a man, trying desperately to lead his flocks to safety, trying at the same time to convince himself that he could handle all the wolves in the world. How dare he let himself fall in love? And with a wolf, at that. A rather winsome wolf, but still, his instincts weren't Blake's. As their separate dreams proved.

Avon blinked, and started to move away, dark eyes bleak. There was no censure, no blame in them, just grief. And that did in all Blake's lofty arguments. "Avon. I won't let you go."

"What else can you do?" Avon sounded infinitely weary.

"I can... _we_ can tell the crew we're lovers. And if they can't understand, I'm sure Avalon can find places for them in her organization, and replacements for _Liberator_ ."

Avon's jaw dropped. "You're mad. I've seen Avalon's riffraff, remember? I wouldn't trust one of them to pilot his, her, or its, way out of a wet paper bag, let alone _Liberator_ . And Vila's talents are even harder to come by. If we have to depend on that sort, we'll be dead within a week."

"I think I'd rather be dead with you, than let you go." Blake wasn't sure he meant that, but he was sure he'd say anything to keep Avon. If that was lying, so be it. 

"Don't say that!" Avon said fiercely. His hands rose, clenched into fists. "You can't..."

"What? I can't feel that way, so soon? It's not soon. It's late. But not too late. Stay with me. By my side. In my bed, if you will. Be my friend, if you don't want to be my lover. Just don't leave me. I need you. I think I'd go mad without you." 

Avon moved forward as if drawn helplessly into Blake's arms once more. "I know I would," he muttered. "But I think the end result will be the same, whether we go mad together, or apart." He shivered. "But I would rather be together."

"Yes." Blake kissed the top of Avon's bowed head. He hugged him, and noticed with concern how chilled Avon was. "Get dressed. I'm taking you back up to _our_ ship."

Avon's grin was blinding. "Then turn around. If I have to look at you while I'm getting dressed, we may never get back."

Blake laughed, and obeyed. Even listening to Avon putting on his clothes was distracting. Watching would definitely throw them off schedule. He pulled his own clothes on in record time and turned back to see Avon doing up the last of the silver snap-studs along the edge of his black leather tunic. Blake licked his lips, and Avon blushed again. He grinned, enjoying his power over the other man.

"Stop that," Avon said, softly. "It isn't fair. I can't do that to you."

"Yes, you can. I just blush on the inside."

Avon's eyes narrowed. "And how am I supposed to tell?"

Blake glanced down at himself.

"Ah," Avon sounded pleased. "In that case, I can see you will have some uncomfortable moments on the flight deck."

"I certainly hope so." Blake lifted his teleport bracelet. "Let's find out."

"Wait." Avon held up a hand. "While I am willing to let the universe find out about us, there are limits." He went to the dream-machine he'd used, and extracted the cube.

"You're right." While it had been a beautiful, loving experience, Blake's dream was too personal to share. He pulled his own cube out of the machine he'd lain under.

"Blake?" Avon's voice was odd. After tonight, he'd thought he'd heard every nuance it could possibly hold. 

"What's the matter?"

"This cube. It has your name on it." Avon held out the cube he'd just taken out of the machine.

"It can't. It was your dream." Blake looked at the cube he held. "Avon." He looked up, startled. "This cube has your name."

They stared at each other. That sweet, loving and gentle encounter was Avon's fantasy? Which meant that masochistic experience of Avon's was really... Blake felt his face warming. "Oh, Avon." What could Avon think of him. He looked at Avon. Avon had gone white.

"Tender and loving?" Avon shook his head. "Was it really?"

Blake nodded solemnly. "Worse. Absolutely perfectly hearts and roses. You cried in my arms."

Avon shuddered. Then he brightened a bit. "Actually, Blake, as it was my fantasy, then you were playing my part. You cried, not me."

"Which means you've secretly longed to protect and comfort me?"

Avon was disgruntled once more. "It would appear so," he muttered. 

Blake swallowed and nerved himself up to ask, "And how ...wild' was wild?"

Avon grinned, shakily. "What do the words 'whips and cattle prods' bring to mind?"

Blake flinched.

Avon's smile grew slowly. "Well, now. 'Ode to a Louse'."

"What?" Blake asked, startled. He hadn't thought he deserved that. If he was a secret masochist, the Federation probably was more than a bit responsible. 

"An old-calendar poem." Avon tossed the cube he held in the air, catching it gleefully. "Translated, the part I'm thinking of went something like this : 'Oh, would the power the giftee give us, To see ourselves as others see us.' "

Blake rubbed his chin. "That doesn't quite fit. We saw each other."

"Did we?" Avon said, softly. For an instant Blake saw the tenderness within. "Or did we see through each other's eyes? Did we see dreams, or did we see the future?"

"Both, Avon," Blake said, promising.

Their teleport bracelets chimed together. Vila's voice came through. "Blake? Avon? Where are you? Why haven't you called in? Jenna's in a tizzy, and Cally's in some telepathic fog, and Gan's had five showgirls, and ..."

"We're here," Blake said into the teleport bracelet. "Avon and I. We're together." He grinned. 

"What's the matter, Vila," Avon teased, loud enough to be heard over Blake's bracelet. "Run out of credits?"

"Run out of time, more like," Vila replied. "Get up here, right away. There's a message from Avalon."

"All right, Vila," Blake said, then cut the connection. He noticed that Avon hadn't done up the last snap at his neck. He reached over to correct it. "Wouldn't do to show up all rumpled, would it?" he said, running his fingers through Avon's hair.

Avon grabbed the back of Blake's neck, and kissed him.

"Teleporting now," Vila said.

Blake heard him, vaguely, but it didn't seem to matter. The earth moved, and he shifted, feeling his balance off. The air was cooler, too, and there were echoes off metal walls that hadn't been there a minute ago.

"What's going on?" Jenna shouted.

Blake and Avon broke apart. The entire complement of the _Liberator_ 's crew was gathered in the teleport bay, staring at them.

"Er, Avon," Blake started.

Avon shrugged. "You said you'd explain," he replied, smiling angelically at Blake.

"Thanks a lot," Blake muttered. He took a deep breath and looked at his crew. Cally looked puzzled, Vila was trying to stifle laughter, Gan- well, Gan was staring into space with a huge grin on his face, he probably wouldn't have noticed if _Travis_ had appeared kissing Blake. Jenna was standing there, arms crossed, foot tapping angrily on the deck. Blake swallowed to moisten his dry throat and said, "Avon and I have become lovers."

"At last," Jenna growled. "I'd gotten tired of your excuses." She flung her hair back out of her face with an angry gesture. "I hate wasting my time. Come to the flight deck, and listen to Avalon's message. You'll probably want to rescue her again." She grabbed Cally by the arm and stomped off toward the flight deck. "Come on, holiday's over. Let's get to work." Her voice trailed back, "Vila, get Gan to the medical unit."

"She took it better than I'd expected," Blake said, weakly, as Vila shrugged and towed the still grinning Gan in his wake.

Avon looked pensive. 

"What's the matter now?" Blake asked. 

"About Avalon. Rescuing fair maidens is still on, but the knight's reward is off." Avon was deadly serious.

Blake took Avon's hand, and tugged him in the direction of the flight deck. "Knight takes knight."

"All night?" Avon said, hopefully.

Blake stopped. "Avon, love, you do know you have the most awful taste in puns."

"Oh, yes. Absolutely bleak, Blake."

Blake sighed. "Are you always this bad when you're in love?"

"It gets worse," Avon confided. 

"When Kerr cares?"

Avon pulled Blake down into a brief kiss. He held Blake's head close and whispered into his ear, "Only in your wildest dreams, Blake."

"And yours." Blake sighed again. "To the flight deck."

"Our flight deck."

"Are you going to hold me to something said in the heat of passion?" 

"At every given opportunity."

"Hmm." Blake slowly smiled. "Yes, I think that will work out nicely." He put his arm around Avon's shoulders.

"Now, Blake, let's discuss the flight deck couch..."


End file.
